


go gather all the rebels now, we'll rebel-rouse and sing aloud

by rebelsquad (wolveheart)



Series: sorry for the dirt in your mouth [2]
Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Gen, Girls Playing Soccer are Gay Culture, M/M, Soccer, Strawberries are Gay Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 10:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13075056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolveheart/pseuds/rebelsquad
Summary: It's only common decency to cheer on the girls' team and celebrate with them and maybe copy a few of their tricks, that much Leckie knows.





	go gather all the rebels now, we'll rebel-rouse and sing aloud

**Author's Note:**

> just a small coda to _in gold light, lakeside and backlit_. could technically be read as the game andy and eddie miss, but rather takes place in the fall season after that. title from alessia cara's "wild things."

The crowd holds their collective breaths as the striker in the blue jersey – wrong  color, not the team Leckie’s here to support, hell no – speeds towards the goal, blonde ponytail flying in her wake. Where before the rustling of bags of chips and popcorn created background noise for people’s voices there is now only tension, crackling through the viewers crammed together on the four-tiered bleachers.

Next to Leckie, Vera is gripping her jacket so tightly her knuckles are white. Like everyone, she is completely transfixed by the scene occurring on the field. The board shows 2:2, and 50 seconds left to play unless it goes into overtime. If the striker scores, it’ll be near impossible for the Renegades to come back, which would mean no semifinals, which would mean the end of the season. This is obvious to everyone, both on the bleachers and on the field.

The striker smashes the ball on goal with so much force it could shatter a goal post.

Everyone follows the ball as it sails towards the top right corner, a white-black bullet, absolutely merciless. But –

A jump, a stretch, both gloved hands on the ball. Florence lands on the grass; in one fluent motion, she curls up to soften the impact, rolls and throws the ball to Caitlyn who takes off in the opposite direction.

“Whoo!” yells Burgie down Leckie’s row, “go Renegades!” He’s clapping and there’s a ripple going through the crowd as everyone takes a deep breath. Vera loosens her grip and uses her fingers to whistle loudly. The waving green posters and banners join in the celebration.

“That’s how it’s done, Flo!” Even over the cheering the voice is undoubtedly Burgie’s. When Leckie tries to catch a glimpse of him through the bodies and clapping hands, Burgie is smiling bright enough to power his own car. At least he didn’t yell ‘that’s my girlfriend!’ again.

“Hey,” Leckie nudges Hoosier on his other side, “why don’t you ever do cool shit like that?”

Hoosier doesn’t pause his clapping or take his eyes off the field. “Cause y’all don’t deserve it and I’m not a 5’1’’ cat with the ability to always land on my feet.”

“Oh my God,” Vera breathes, and Leckie swallows his reply as he redirects his attention to the field.

Stella is running down the right wing, her dirt-stained jersey fluttering. She’s breathing hard, but the only thing she’s looking at is the goal. Number 9 and 15 can’t keep up with her and number 21 fails to steal the ball from her; Stella tunnels her and with that she’s past the last line of defense, the goal wide open in front of her.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Vera mutters under her breath, crossing her fingers, and Leckie finds himself leaning forward, focussing on the ball as if he could get it into the goal by sheer force of will from meters away. Even Hoosier stops bouncing his knee. The other Renegades, both on and off the field, are shouting encouragements, their voices hoarse and out of breath.

Ten seconds on the clock.

The opposing team’s goalkeeper comes out of her goal a few steps, hands at her sides, weight on the balls of her feet.

Stella’s foot hits the ball like a sledgehammer.

The ball doesn’t make a sound when it crashes into the net.

The noise of the crowd one second later is deafening.

 

:

 

The diner is barely big enough to hold this many exuberant teenagers. Squeezed between Stella and Chuckler in a corner booth, red vinyl sticking to the back of his knees, Leckie isn’t sure if there’s as much as one ounce of oxygen left in the room. At least Stella’s freshly showered hair smells good. Some kind of mango-orange combination. She’s recounting the last minute of the game, moving her head so Leckie gets a wave of the smell every now and then.

“My heart stopped, I thought for sure I’d hit the post!”

How Stella can still speak with so much energy is beyond Leckie.

“But you didn’t, and you were amazing,” says Vera. She’s sitting at the short end of the table, half-across from Stella and next to Burgie, and she hasn’t stopped smiling at Stella since. Well, since the goal, really. She’s good at that. Sustained open joy.

And, Leckie notices, she and Stella are still holding hands under the table. Christ. All Hoosier’s giving him is a bruise from where he’s continuously kicking against Leckie’s shin. This is why he didn’t want to sit on opposite sides of the table.

“Ladies, gentlemen,” says the waiter in greeting, bringing every conversation at their table to a halt. “Congratulations on the win, I hear it’s a big one.” He smiles at Caitlyn next to Hoosier and there’s definitely a light blush high on his cheekbones.

“Oh, you know, Gibby,” Stella shrugs with faked nonchalance, “we’re just going to semifinals of regional championships. No big deal.” She high fives Florence.

The waiter’s eyes widen. “Oh, wow. Well, in that case, I should serve the victors first.” He lowers his tray so Caitlyn can see the drinks. “Which one’s yours?”

Subtle. Leckie has to give him that, he couldn’t have done it better.

They make quick work of distributing the drinks. Strawberry milkshakes for Stella and Chuckler, red berry smoothies for Florence, Burgie and Vera, chocolate milkshake for Hoosier, and cokes for Leckie and Caitlyn.

“You want?” Stella asks Vera, pointing at the strawberry placed on the rim of the glass.

Vera’s face lights up even more, not that Leckie thought that was possible. “How could I say no.”

Stella plucks the strawberry off the glass, picks out the stem and holds the fruit to Vera’s lips. Vera eats it without breaking eye contact, humming approvingly.

“Get a room,” mumbles Chuckler around his straw. He gets Vera’s little paper umbrella thrown at him in response.

Leckie’s holding his coke without drinking from it, the glass cool against the palm of his hand. He glances over to Hoosier who hasn’t taken a sip from his shake yet either.

Leckie looks at the shake, then at Hoosier.

“Don’t even think about it, order your own damn shake,” says Hoosier. He doesn’t move to pull the shake closer or drink from it.

Conversations around them pick up again.

Leckie just keeps looking at Hoosier, unafraid and unashamed. He can see the exact moment Hoosier caves in.

“Ugh, fine.” Hoosier pushes the glass halfway over the table, easy for Leckie to reach. “But if you drink more than two inches, I’m making you pay for it.”

“That’s what he said,” says Leckie, and slurps happily.

Victory is sweet.


End file.
